He walked to the door, and opened it.
"I decline to give you the opportunity of saying anything more," he rejoined. "I beg to leave you in possession of the room, and to wish you good evening."
He opened the door. I had entered the house, armed in my own mind with a last desperate resolve, only to be communicated to him, or to anybody, in the final emergency and at the eleventh hour. The time had come for saying what I had hoped with my whole heart to have left unsaid.
I rose on my side, and stopped him as he was leaving the room.
"Return to your chair and your book," I said. "Our interview is at an end. In leaving the house, I have one last word to say. You are wasting your time in remaining at Dimchurch."
"I am the best judge of that," he answered, making way for me to go out.
"Pardon me, you are not in a position to judge at all. You don't know what I mean to do as soon as I get back to the rectory."
He instantly changed his position; placing himself in the doorway so as to prevent me from leaving the room.
"What do you mean to do?" he asked, keeping his eyes attentively fixed on mine.
"I mean to force you to leave Dimchurch."